


Orange is the New White House

by Tish



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Apocalypse, Deepthroating, Deliberate Badfic, M/M, Nonnies Made Me Do It, Tentacles, friendly reminder that ted cruz is the zodiac killer uwu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 07:10:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6145675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/pseuds/Tish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trump/Christie 2016!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orange is the New White House

The moon was high, Trump's pants were low. It was Super Tuesday and Chris Christie sucked hungrily at Trump's tentacal cock. Every time Chris thought he'd reached the end, there was suddenly more orange coctacle to swallow. Tears formed at the corner of his eyes and he forced himself on.

"What have I done?" The thought formed in Christi'es mind like a methane cloud. It seemed like a good idea at the time, throwing his lot in with Trump. Getting on the gold popularity wagon, sharing the limelight for a while before having to go back _there_.

New Jersey sank into the night with a sound like a wet fart. His beloved home state would be spared the tangerine apocalypse, but dear God, the things he was doing to save it.

"Look at that, it's huuuuuuuuuuge!" Trump stared down at the man on the end of his engorged coctacle. Christie could barely nod his agreement as he sucked it down deeper and deeper. He felt so shamed, so bad. Surely it would be worth it in the end?

 

"I tell ya. You'll get a ringside seat when Cruz starts sucking up to me." Trump wiped orange Cheeto stained fingers in Christie's hair. "I might not make you suck him off, depends how well he impresses with his numbers."

Christie swallowed hard and tried to say something, anything that would convince Trump to make him Veep. He started to weep, tiny crystalline tears. His vision blurred, all he could hear was the roar of the crowds chanting Trump! Trump! Trump! Trump! Trump! Trump! 

 

Chris opened his eyes on the cold, clear January morning. He placed his hand on the Bible and repeated the oaf of office. From behind came the applause of a set of orange coctacles.

The crowd cheered, drowning out his pent-up screams of terror as he was carted away by the Secret Service.

 

Later that day, Ted Cruz wiped the orange slime from his lips, stepped into a roomful of photographers and took the oaf of office. He smiled a lizard smile as cameras flashed and popped. Orange gloop pooled in his tighty whiteys as it worked itself out from his wrecked asshole.

Inside Cruz's skull, the words, "What have I done?" pounded around and round. A tiny orange tear gathered at his eye. 


End file.
